


Good Omens Tumblr Prompts (Ineffable Husbands) & Discord Weeklies

by LadyOutlier



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Don’t copy to another site, Fluff and Angst, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-07-28 18:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20068507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyOutlier/pseuds/LadyOutlier
Summary: Prompt: I don’t know if this counts as head-canon or not, but I’m interested in the idea that the Crowley’s feet get permanently damaged during the Church Scene (it follows if holy water is permanent death than consecrated ground might be permanent damage as well imo). One day, Aziraphale notices.





	1. Pain is Relative

Falling was hardly painless. It burned and scarred and left behind a great deal of phantom pains and bad memories. Still, 6000 years was an awful lot of time for Crowley to get used to all that. Let it blend into his identity until it became as much a part of himself as his name. Though he had already proven that names were always up for debate. But it was enough time to let it shift his outlook on life and play a role in everything he did. Soon enough, he all but forgot what life was like without the pain of his Fall.

78 years, on the other hand, isn’t a lot of time for an immortal being to get used to a new source of pain, although Crowley did try his hardest to cope and continue on as normal. He wasn’t sure whether it made it better or worse that this, unlike his Fall, was most definitely self-imposed.

He had made the decision to enter that church to help out Aziraphale. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest move considering that Aziraphale would hardly be gone forever if he hadn’t intervened. He would’ve just been preoccupied for a bit up in Heaven whilst he was issued a new body. Likely, he would’ve made it back to Earth before the century was up, and all would’ve been right as rain.

But for some reason, Crowley just couldn’t let that happen. Had to _save him the embarrassment_ as he had put it. Really though, he just wasn’t all that interested in seeing the corpse of his friend, even if it was hardly permanent. And dying probably still hurt like Hell. Aziraphale didn’t deserve that.

So he had tap-danced his way into that church, desperately trying to keep either of his feet from being too scorched by the holy divinity of God. At least the ground no longer burned when it was reduced to rubble. Still, the damage had been done, and, like his wings, his feet didn’t go back to normal. If he had thought about it a bit more, maybe he would’ve came in kneeling. God would’ve had a good chuckle at that.

It hadn’t been hard to play off the constant ache in his step when he walked. His overly dramatic saunter made it easy to play off a sudden stab of pain as just another example of his inability to remain still for too long. Really, he had the whole world fooled, even himself, that absolutely nothing was wrong whatsoever. That’s probably why he didn’t think twice about it when he swapped bodies with Aziraphale.

That’s not to say that Aziraphale felt Crowley’s pain when in his body. No, that wasn’t the case at all. If God’s holy wrath was tied to nothing but a physical body, well, it would hardly qualify as a punishment. This type of pain was linked to the soul so that whatever body Crowley incorporated, he wouldn’t be quick to get comfortable.

Still, Crowley had never been discorporated, so his physical scars from his walk down the aisle were most definitely present on the soles of his feet. It wasn’t until a certain holy water bath where Aziraphale noticed, and it was very much the reason why he had left Crowley’s socks on for it. He considered keeping it to himself, but curiosity soon won out, and a week after deceiving Heaven and Hell, he brought it up.

Their common place of evening banter was undoubtedly Aziraphale’s bookstore, but the angel had suggested they go to Crowley’s flat tonight instead. Surely if the demon was in his own space when Aziraphale turned the conversation to his question, he would feel more comfortable answering it. At the very least, he would have a harder time running away. Crowley had thought the change of place odd, but it wasn’t like he was going to say no to Aziraphale.

They were a couple bottles in, relaxed on an L-shaped couch that hadn’t existed four hours ago, before Aziraphale had the confidence to turn the conversation. It was a real shame to bring down the merry atmosphere with this, but this just wasn’t something he could shrug off.

“What did it feel like? Falling that is?” This wasn’t a new question the angel posed to the demon. Every now and then he would ask it, and Crowley would give him a slightly different answer each time.

“Like that warm bubbly God’s grace inside you suddenly got much too hot.”

“Is that how your feet feel too?” Aziraphale asked as nonchalantly as he could.

“What?” Crowley all but dropped his glass.

“I—I just noticed in our little escapade last week where we, you know, pulled one over our respective head offices…” He paused to look at Crowley who stared at him slightly slack-jawed. “Well, I noticed you had scars on the soles of your feet. Rather extreme ones too. And—and considering we can look any way we please and do away with things like scars, I assumed that these in particular must be related to a holy event.”

“Yeah it was.” The demon’s mouth was a thin line. “_A holy event_.”

“Oh, I do hope you didn’t step in that holy water I gave you. Everything in me said that I shouldn’t give it to you, but I did anyway.”

“Nah, was before that. 1941. Church. You know.”

Of course he knew. Crowley had once again showed up to save the day and, more importantly, his books. It was the kindest act anyone had ever done for him, and the demon refused to let him properly thank him for it. The holy water had been his later attempt at that.

“Dear Lord, Crowley. This didn’t happen to you because you felt the need to save me, did it?”

Crowley cringed at Aziraphale’s tone of voice. Last thing he wanted was the angel’s sympathy—or his guilt for that matter. “I wasn’t bloody certain what would happen when I went into that church. Figure a bit of foot pain isn’t that bad considering.”

“How’s a permanent injury to your celestial being not bad?”

“Well, the Almighty could’ve smited me then and there for stepping foot into Her holy sanctuary. Everything kind of pales compared to that.”

Aziraphale’s jaw practically fell off. “You thought the Almighty might smite you, and you still went in to save me?!?”

“I hoped the whole saving an angel thing would convince Her to go easy on me.”

“Crowley!”

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

And he meant it. Absolutely one hundred percent meant it. He’d do anything for Aziraphale, although he usually tried to keep him from knowing that.

“I’d rather you not maim yourself—or risk your life—for me. Especially when it’s a non-lethal situation!” Aziraphale was now standing, his wine glass forgotten on the coffee table.

“With how your relationship with Heaven is, I’d say there’s all the more reason for me to.”

“Then I hope you don’t mind me saying that I’ll do the same for you going forward.”

And now Crowley was standing as well. “Of course I mind!”

“So, do you see where I’m coming from? Will you trust me to handle myself.”

Crowley sat back down, defeated, and Aziraphale followed suit.

“I’ll do my best, angel.”

They were silent for a moment with Aziraphale’s gaze turned to the demon’s snakey boots. He cleared his throat and spoke up. “So your feet do hurt then?”

“‘S fine when I’m sitting down.”

“And when you’re not?”

“Maybe hurts a bit now and then.” Crowley shrugged in an attempt to downplay his words as much as possible.

“Is there—”

“No, Aziraphale. Nothing you can do unless you also have a way to make my wings white again. And don’t say bleach. It’s not a funny joke.”

“Never would have thought of it, dear.” He moved closer to Crowley on the couch. “But I can’t stand to sit here knowing you’re in pain.”

A confused yet knowing expression flooded Crowley’s face. “Demons are use to pain, angel. We always feel it. The Fall wasn’t a one-and-done deal. We just get used to what it feels like.”

“Oh.” It’s a small little noise that escapes Aziraphale’s lips. One that holds a lot more emotional meaning than the word’s dictionary one. “Crowley, I—I didn’t know.”

“It’s not like I ever told ya.” He avoided the angel’s gaze. “Like I said, we get used to it. No use crying about some 6000 year old drama, now is there?”

“I’m so sorry. That sounds absolutely awful. I wish I could, I mean, there has to be—”

“Can we please not turn this into a pity party. Really I’m fine. As fine as I’ve ever been anyway. And I’d really just like to get sloshed with my best friend, if you don’t mind.”

It was time to back off. Crowley was done with this conversation. To the demon’s benefit, he had given Aziraphale a lot. Let loose quite a few secrets, and the angel appreciated that. If Crowley just wanted to drink now and have a good time, Aziraphale was going to do his best to give him a good evening.

“Of course. I shouldn’t have pushed you on this. We can go back to drinking.”

He picked his wine glass back up but didn’t return to his side of the couch, instead remaining next to Crowley. If the demon minded, he didn’t show any sign of it.

If Aziraphale couldn’t offer him any relief for his physical and spiritual pain, he could at least provide Crowley with his company. Really, that’s all Crowley wanted. Just Aziraphale’s company. Because, even though he didn’t tell the angel, just being around Aziraphale made him forget all about every ounce of pain he had ever felt.


	2. A Demon's Playlist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Loved Earth Angel to bits! If you’re taking prompts, I dunno if this counts, but I loved your take on that old classic song so I figured I’d suggest another classic; I Only Have Eyes For You by the Flamingos :D

Angels weren’t ones to snoop. It wasn’t proper, and it was invasive of a person’s privacy. That behavior was better left to those Downstairs. Angels did not prowl or pry or put their hands where they did not belong. They _investigated_ in an effort to thwart evil. A much more justified action. At least that’s what Aziraphale told himself as he looked down at the CD in his hands. The words “Stupid Humans” glared back at him in hastily written Sharpie marker.

It was really Crowley’s fault after all. He had been the one to drop it and speed away before Aziraphale could return it to him. What if this was important in stopping Crowley’s heinous ways? And maybe if the demon wasn’t so secretive all the time, he wouldn’t even feel the need to _investigate_ this. Maybe if Crowley would let him tag along for one of his days rather than it always being the other way around, the disc wouldn’t look so inviting. If he knew a bit more about what Crowley liked other than the small bits and pieces the demon allowed himself to show…

Maybe then he wouldn’t be miracling himself a CD player and sliding the misplaced disc into it.

Music from a variety of decades played back at him. Song after song after song. “Wouldn’t It Be Nice” by The Beach Boys and The Platters’ “Only You (And You Alone).” “Dream Lover” by Bobby Darin and Frankie Valli’s “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You.” “Honesty” by Billy Joel and The Flamingo’s “I Only Have Eyes For You.” Aziraphale listened to them all as the evening grew darker.

Lyrics still echoed like phantoms in the silence that followed the last song:

_Maybe millions of people go by/ But they all disappear from view/ And I only have eyes for you…_

_You’d be like heaven to touch/ I wanna hold you so much…_

_And wouldn’t it be nice to live together/ In the kind of world where we belong?_

_Tell me where else I can turn/ ‘Cause you’re the one I depend upon…_

_Only you can make all this world seem right/ Only you can make the darkness bright…_

_Please don’t make me dream alone/ I beg you don’t make me dream alone…_

_But if you feel like I feel/ Please let me know that is real…_

Love songs. So many love songs. Longing love songs no less. Aching heart-breaking longing. It’s not that Aziraphale never thought that Crowley could feel this way. He knew the demon was a lot less, well, demonic than what Heaven would want him to believe. It was really that he had never registered that Crowley _could_ feel this way. That he would have a reason to.

Hardly anything evil then. The angel suddenly felt a lot more guilty for listening to the disc. Clearly, this was of incredible personal importance to Crowley. Something he didn’t want to share with Aziraphale. He would just slyly tuck the disc into Crowley’s glove box next time he saw him, and just pretend nothing was different. No harm done. Besides, of course, the pit lodged in his stomach, but that was his own fault.

Aziraphale ejected the CD out of the player and stared at his reflection in it. He wondered who Crowley felt this way about. Who he could feel such an intense love for that wasn’t being returned. He looked away from his reflection. A small voice inside him told him that he already knew the answer to that question, but he still wasn’t ready to admit to it just yet.


	3. When It All Comes Crumbling Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m not sure if this is where I’m supposed to send my prompt if not I’m v sorry! But as for the prompt I love the idea of touch starved Crowley just needing a good hug. I feel like in many fics there’s so much focus on the first kiss that they gloss over the absolute comfort Zira and Crowley take in one another! Maybe after the Apocalypse Crowley finally breaks and hesitantly asks for a hug? Maybe Zira sees Crowley utterly exhausted and pulls him into his arms? It’s up to you! Thank you!!!

Crowley survived almost a full day, including a lunch at the Ritz with Aziraphale, following the Non-pocalypse before it all caught up to him, and he lost that suave talk and walk he always wore. Breakdowns hardly ever appeared at an appropriate time—and he wouldn’t consider any time with Aziraphale appropriate—but behind the wheel of his Bentley was probably one of the worst moments the world could throw at him.

Although the vehicle didn’t crash, it might as well have with the sudden forceful weight the demon found crushing his chest. Fight or flight lasted quite a bit longer in supernatural beings, but they still couldn’t remain in adrenaline mode forever. The world was safe. Everything was fine. _Aziraphale was fine._ And Crowley was spent.

The brakes screeched as he impulsively pulled over to the side of the road. Less than kind words were yelled from the tailing cars as they drove past. On another day, perhaps even earlier in this one, Crowley would’ve made sure their tires mysterious became flat as a petty sort of revenge, but as things were now, he didn’t even hear them. Aziraphale did, but he had more important things to worry about than the blasphemous language of some hot-headed drivers.

“Crowley, dear, are you alright? Your speeding is one thing, but you can’t just swerve off the road like that!”

Crowley looked to him. His cheek twitched, but otherwise, he stayed silent. Aziraphale’s expression softened.

“As marvelous as angelic powers can be, mind reading is not a part of them. You’re going to have to give me something to work with.”

Never, absolutely never had he seen Crowley this way (Well, maybe once but he didn’t really have physical eyes at the time to be sure). His face overly pale, his eyes hollow, staring at Aziraphale or maybe past him. It was hard to tell. The demon had always been talkative. In fact, it was rather difficult to keep him quiet. Just a moment ago, Crowley had been completely fine, going on about how Freddie Mercury was an utter icon. Then, he had trailed off, and now here they were. Aziraphale was, well, frankly unnerved and a whole lot concerned.

“I...” Crowley clutched the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. “I really did think you were dead.”

Aziraphale opened his mouth to speak, but Crowley continued before he could. “Just with the fire—in the moment was pretty damn sure it was hellfire—and you weren’t in there. And you care more about those bloody books than your own life, so if they were all being reduced to ash, figured the same must have happened to you.” He took a breath. “Angel, it wasn’t like I was halfway around the world or off dancing in the stars. I was right there, and I was still too late.”

Aziraphale bit his lip, taking it all in. “So, it—it was me you were so upset over when I asked you about Agnes Nutter’s book.”

“Of course it was you! Was I going to be tearing up over, I don’t know, Ligur after I dumped a bucket of holy water on his head?”

“It’s not like I could see all that well in that form. Last thing I heard from you was over the phone that you were catching up with an old friend. Then, next I see you—poor word choice, again I couldn’t see—you tell me you just lost your best friend.”

“Thought it was a bit obvious that the old friend bit was less than serious. Said it a bit unpleasantly, didn’t I?”

“Yes, and I suspected you might have been referring to me at the bar, but I wasn’t going to jump to conclusions and assume things.”

“There are no friends in Hell. It’s all just one nasty comment away from a blood bath down there.”

“You could have been referring to a human.”

Crowley practically collapsed against the driver’s side door. “_A human?!?!_ Really, you’d think I’d be all worked up over a human?”

“You were relatively close to that da Vinci fellow.”

“He made pretty pictures. Paper that was nice on the eyes. That was about it.”

“Well, surely there was someone who—”

“Aziraphale, I don’t know how many pals you got hanging about, but you’re the only one I got.”

The angel had always known that Crowley was far from the ideal, archetypal demon and that he didn’t necessarily get on well with his acquaintances in Hell but to learn that Crowley didn’t have anyone other than him to call friend? That was a bit heartbreaking even if it wasn’t necessarily surprising.

To hear it from Crowley’s mouth directly was the actual surprising part. In their 6000 years on Earth together, they had become all too familiar with indirect conversation. Imply things but not actually say them. It was a safety thing—to keep their secrets from Heaven and Hell—but that was no longer an issue, and here Crowley was telling it to him straight. No games.

Well, Aziraphale could be direct too. He grabbed one of Crowley’s hands from the steering wheel and held it in his own. The demon’s mouth hung open, and he looked from their hands to Aziraphale but otherwise, said nothing.

“Yes. I’d have to say that you are indeed my only friend too.” The angel smiled for a moment before it faded. “I’m sorry. That you thought I was dead, and that I was less than cooperative in those dire hours before the End of the World. We were on our own side by that point just like you said. I just wasn’t ready to accept it yet, and perhaps if I had, the whole day might have been a little less… traumatic.”

Aziraphale squeezed Crowley’s hand in his. It took a second, but the demon did squeeze back.

“Can’t imagine a reality where the End of the World wasn’t traumatizing.” Crowley tapped the steering wheel with his free hand. “Nothing for you to be sorry for, angel. You came around. Or I did. And I was asking a lot of you. One step down from forgoing Heaven and your _angelic duties_. I know that’s a hard thing to come to terms with.” He stared out his window, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

Aziraphale wondered if the conversation was still entirely about the last 24 hours. “Crowley, are you going to be alright?”

“Oh, yeah. Quite alright. Just was a lot and it all caught up to me. We haven’t really had a breather past few days, have we?” Crowley forced out a smile. “‘Course, would’ve preferred to drop you off before it all took its toll.”

Aziraphale released his hand, and briefly, the demon’s heart dropped, but then it shot into overload as the angel leaned over from the passenger seat and pulled him into a hug. Hugging from the interior of a car is not an ideal hugging location. It’s awkward in both the angle and space department, but for an angel and a demon that were 6000 years touch starved, it didn’t matter at all.

“Crowley, please don’t feel like you have to hide anything from me,” Aziraphale said from over his friend’s shoulder. “We’re in this together after all.”

“Yeah, angel. You’re right. Very right.” Crowley closed his eyes. A smile much too soft for a demon appeared on his face. “Me and you. Together.”


	4. A Shard of Eden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing too original but: Some first date / first kiss would be lovely! Oh and also Crowley in cute panic mode when Aziraphale finally catches up to him romantically.

It had been seventeen hours and 42 minutes since Aziraphale had told Crowley that he loved him. The demon would have the time memorized down to the second, but he had been too stunned by the returned declaration of love that the second, and quite a few more, had passed before he had regained his composure.

And after that moment, time had slipped away. Ooey gooey, mind-melting, light-headedness of having 6000 years worth of pining finally pay off would do that even to Satan himself. Y’know, if Satan ever found himself in that position—which was far from likely, although no one really knew who the Antichrist’s mother was. Crowley was exceptionally vulnerable to it, but Aziraphale did that to him. Made him lose his composure, even if it usually was only internally.

At some point the sun had risen, and a night full of talking about things Crowley never thought he would say out loud had passed. At roughly eight sharp, Aziraphale had suggested that Crowley go off to water his plants and meet him back here at his bookshop at three. Perhaps they would spend the afternoon somewhere. Perhaps Hyde Park. He didn’t say first date directly, but they both knew that’s what it was. They had their own wordless way of speaking that only a millennium or two of frequent interactions could create.

Crowley did not water his plants at his flat. There was so much more to do. Planning. Oh so much planning. How did dates even work? He had his fair share of seduction jobs in the past, but those didn’t really follow up with an ongoing relationship. Dates were practically as foreign to him as Heaven itself. You dress up for them, yeah? But a park was hardly a place to sport a penguin suit. Bring flowers? That’s a thing. There’s a whole language to that though. Certain flowers mean specific things, and as big of a plant enthusiast as Crowley was, he had no idea what meant what. Ask a flower person? Botanists? No, they were called florists. There had to be one of those nearby. Did he have time for that? Surely. Worst case, he’d miracle himself some more.

Would it be too cheesy for him to play “Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy” on the ride? Yeah, probably. He really should’ve thought this out more. Well, he did. Quite a lot over the centuries. But all those thoughts found themselves submerged deep within himself to face tortures worse than the most vile punishments of Hell. He could vow for that.

If he had known that he actually had a shot with Aziraphale—that one day they’d be actually be going on a date together—maybe he would’ve let those thoughts play out a bit more. If he had properly started preparing for this as early as the Wall of Eden, he’d probably be a whole lot more confident and a whole lot more calm right now. He couldn’t stop pacing around.

Maybe flowers were too cliche. Too puppy love teenager mushy rubbish. But a gift was necessary. That’s what these things were all about. A thank you for giving a horrible demon a chance. A symbol of love. Yeah, that was still weird. Aziraphale really did love him. Wow. Isn’t that something? Might as well have dumped a bucket of holy water on him because that thought alone melts him into a pool on the linoleum.

He could always steal that book back from that American girl with the glasses. Aziraphale had really liked that thing, although he probably wouldn’t be all that happy with him immorally acquiring it. AH! If his heart could calm down for just three seconds, he could think a bit clearer. Maybe he’d just get rid of it. Not like he needed it after all. But that wouldn’t be very nice. Not that he wanted to be nice. Just he wouldn’t even be here without that infernal organ.

He could pull a Van Gogh but instead of an ear just give Aziraphale his whole heart. Two problems solved: the irritating beating and the present. Problem with that was that Aziraphale already had his heart.

He needed something with weight to it. Something that showed Aziraphale both how long and how much he loved him. Something one of a kind, but not flashy or showy. Aziraphale wasn’t one for things like that.

He had to have something that fit those qualifications. He kept quite a few souvenirs over the centuries. But did any of them—oh. Oh, he had the perfect thing.

*

“_Hey boy where do you get it from_

_Hey boy where did you go?_

_I learned my passion in the good old fashioned school of loverboys_”

“Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy” did end up playing on the drive although Crowley swore the disc he picked wasn’t a Queen album. The demon was really glad that he had red hair because that certainly helped hide the pink tinge the tips of his ears had taken.

Aziraphale had been silent regarding the song except for a brief “Lovely tune, isn’t it?” before going back to talking about all sorts of things Crowley could listen to all day. The angel could be talking absolute bollocks, and he would still hang on every word.

Although Hyde Park wasn’t nearly as lovely as St. James’s Park, the change of scenery was very much appreciated. Plus, a new location very much fit with the theme of them being on a new level of their relationship. Aziraphale and Crowley found themselves on a nice bench in front of the river. An enormous tree rested in the middle of the path beside them. It seemed that instead of disrupting the giant, the humans had simply built around it. One of the rare examples of their environmental consciousness.

Of course, no appropriate first date at the park would be complete without a picnic lunch, and Aziraphale had thought of just that. He ruffled through his basket, which Crowley had called _grandmotherly_, and pulled out a few cucumber sandwiches. It was a light lunch, but for one, they didn’t actually need to eat, and two, they were likely to find themselves at some place for dinner in only a handful of hours.

Whether or not Crowley was one for eating was no one else’s business. It was also no one’s business how he ate if he did. As such, whether or not he actually ate the cucumber sandwich and how in that case it was devoured, remains a mystery. All that is known is that said sandwich was gone before Aziraphale had gotten halfway through his which wasn’t that surprising considering that the angel is a horribly slow eater.

“You know, this river’s called The Serpentine,” Aziraphale said, wiping his face with a handkerchief. “Thought you would find that amusing.”

Crowley leaned onto the back of the bench and scoffed. “That why you wanted to go here?”

“Maybe.”

Crowley grinned. The mood was playful. The atmosphere was calming. They had a nice lunch. There wasn’t a human in sight. Everything was grand. If now wasn’t the time, when was?

“Got you something, angel.”

The demon reached into his jacket and pulled out something wrapped in a silky black (for what other color would it be?) cloth. Aziraphale eyed him with a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth before he took the gift. As he unwrapped it, Crowley turned to look out over the oddly named river. Still, thanks to his sunglasses, his eyes were on Aziraphale.

As the last of the fabric fell away, what was left behind was a small display box. Like one a person would use for a scientific sample of a raw gemstone. Through the see-through lid of the box, the angel could see a chunk of white stone. It wasn’t natural or glittery in nature. No, it looked man-made as if it once belonged in the entrance of a grand bank.

“Thank you, dear.” He turned the box over in his hand. “Although I do think I’d be a bit more appreciative if I, um, knew exactly what it was.”

“‘S part of the Eastern Gate.” Crowley stretched out on the bench. The more relaxed his posture was, the more he could pretend this was an everyday occurrence.

“Oh, Crowley. You don’t mean Eden’s Eastern Gate?”

“Course I do. Was where I met you. Place was collapsing after Adam and Eve got evicted.”

“Do think that was your fault, love.”

“I merely offered them an alternative. Entirely their fault they chose it. But anyways, figured God didn’t care much for the upkeep of the place considering that the wall could hardly be serving a purpose crumbled down, so I took a brick.”

“And you’ve managed to carry it around for quite literally all of time?”

“Well, not on my person but yes. It’s a good memory. Part with you I mean. The rest was pretty bland.”

“And you’re just giving it to me?”

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I? Don’t need it anymore now that I got you.”

Someone else might have not been able to tell whether Crowley’s remark was meant as a compliment or not, but to Aziraphale, who knew the demon’s tendency to give nuanced comments of admiration, it was dreadfully obvious what he meant. One does not simply have something for 6000 years and just give it up like it’s nothing. Aziraphale doubted there even was anything else left of the Wall of Eden besides this piece. Centuries of weathering and erosion would have ensured that. This was more than a time capsule. It was all that was left of the beginning. The only thing that could bring them back to their first moments together. And Crowley had given it to him just like that. The angel only regretted that he had nothing to give the demon in return.

“I’m at a loss for words. This is so sweet, Crowley. I really just can’t believe you’ve been holding on to it for all this time.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Aziraphale found himself doing something he very much wanted to but didn’t actually tell himself to do. He leaned over to the demon, still cupping the box in his hands, and kissed him right on the cheek. “Thank you.”

If Crowley thought his pink ears in the car was bad, he should’ve had a mirror for this moment. His complexion rivaled that of Satan’s in the red department. Somehow his sunglasses found themselves slid down the bridge of his nose. He was quite literally petrified. Maybe not as much as last night when his relationship with Aziraphale had started, but it was a close second.

“Too much?” Aziraphale asked, hesitantly.

“Do—do it again,” Crowley fumbled out as his mouth began to work once more.

“Gladly.”

The angel pulled him into another kiss, but this time, instead of landing on the cheek, it met with his lips. One would think that after 6 millennia of longing, nothing could live up to that desire. One would be very wrong.

They held each other in a kiss that went on and on. Hands became involved, and they bound together as if they were always meant to be one. A shard of Eden was the only thing between them. And what happened next? Well, that’s their own personal business.


	5. Seasonal Allergies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you're okay with this prompt: Crowley gets hayfever/allergies/the flu and Aziraphale looks after him?

The holiday season following The End of the World that Wasn’t was overly faithful. The latter half of December had been, for the majority of the world’s history, a bit on the holy side as people typically gave up evil doing to celebrate their individual religions, but this season in particular was over the top. Now, this wouldn’t matter in the slightest if it weren’t for the fact that Christmas cheer worked like burning sage when regarding demons. It was a huge irritant like how pollen allergies were for humans, and every single human was radiating it. Until the New Year broke, Crowley was basically allergic to people, and London reeked of them.

Angels and demons are essentially of the same stock whilst also being complete and utter opposites. It is for this reason and this reason alone that Crowley has never had issue with Aziraphale’s good nature and heavenly faith when regarding his holy allergies. Humans are, on the other hand, of a separate stock entirely, and for this reason, allergies ensued.

As such, it was painfully obvious that Crowley was far from his best when he walked into A.Z. Fell and Co. His skin was pale, and his hair was frazzled. His attire wasn’t its usual well-pressed self and instead looked rather rumpled. His nose was red, his walk was stiff, and his eyes were droopy. That last part, however, was well hidden behind his iconic sunglasses. Still, he didn’t look too good.

To top it all off, he sneezed rather loudly the second he stepped through the door. This wasn’t a kitten of a sneeze. It was a loud, booming sneeze that would compete with the dadliest of dads in the most disruptive sneeze competition. Aziraphale would recall at a later date that he swore he saw small flames shoot out of the demon’s ears during it.

“Dear, are you feeling alright?” Aziraphale asked, taking Crowley’s arm. “I can’t say I’ve ever seen you in such a sickly state.”

“Oh, you know. Holiday spirit gets to me. Not exactly a healthy environment for a demon.” Crowley shrugged which was then followed by a sniffle. “Worst than usual this year. Maybe one of the worst years in modern day. At least back when everyone had a Bible on their nightstand, I could climb up into the mountains to get away from them. Nowadays, there are people everywhere.”

“One of the side effects of mankind’s dominance of the animal kingdom I’m afraid,” Aziraphale replied, leading Crowley to the sofa in his backroom. “Stay here. I’ll make you some tea.”

Crowley practically collapsed onto the seat as Aziraphale released his arm. “Ah, you know that won’t do anything. Just came here because you’re good at getting rid of humans. Got a whole building without them. My place’s got humans all around. Above and below. In the walls. Real horrifying.”

“I’m choosing to ignore that last part. Tea will do you well even if it doesn’t help with the cheer problem this time of year presents. Happiness leads to healthiness after all, and tea is quite good at providing happiness.”

“Happiness, huh. Then guess I really did come to the right place.” Crowley wasn’t talking about the tea, but they both decided to pretend that wasn’t the case.

“Make yourself comfortable and try not to fall apart before I get back. I do prefer tea when it’s made the human way and that takes some time.”

Aziraphale left the room to throw the kettle on the stove, and as he did, Crowley called after him. “Can we ban the word _human_? Just thinking about those good-spirited bastards makes my head swirl.”

A few minutes passed, and Crowley got comfortable on the couch, sprawling his body across the whole thing. At least when he laid his head down, it didn’t feel nearly as heavy. He closed his eyes and listened to Aziraphale fumble around in a room elsewhere.

There were places he could go to get away from the end of the year celebrations. Humanity wasn’t that far along regarding space travel, and Alpha Centauri was still an option. But just as it was during the End of the World, there were reasons Crowley didn’t do that. The same reason in fact.

Said reason returned to the backroom carrying two cups of tea. Crowley disliked how much his eyelids stuck together as he opened them. He pulled himself up into a sitting position and took one of the cups Aziraphale offered.

“Do you think there is any particular reason that you’re worse off this year, Crowley?” the angel asked, taking a seat.

Crowley took a sip of the tea, and to his surprise, the warm liquid actually felt good on his hoarse throat. Typically, such earthly remedies had no effect on him. He eyed Aziraphale suspiciously. “Well, could be a number of different things. World could be subconsciously having a positive reaction to the End of the World being averted. Heaven or Hell, or perhaps both, could be taking their revenge in the most petty way possible. Or, my personal favorite, humanity is just great at being a prick in whatever they do.”

“I take it that means you’re not all that concerned about your well-being regarding this.”

“Yeah? It’s really not that bad. Just a shit year.”

“Then why do you look so, um, disheveled?”

“Cause I feel like crap?”

“But I’ve seen you this time of year before, and you’ve never looked so unwell.”

“You serious? You giving me a hard time when my head’s bogged down with enough Christmas cheer to thwart the Grinch twice over?”

“No! Didn’t mean any insult by it. I’m just genuinely interested.”

Crowley closed his eyes once more as he took another long drink of tea. It really did feel good to keep them shut. “Course you didn’t. Silly me. I know your whole Heavenly lot go into overdrive this time of year, yeah?”

“Most certainly. There is a reason _Christmas miracle_ is a well known phrase.”

“Yeah, yeah. Well, so does Hell. Heard of the whole Krampus thing? Steals naughty children and eats them or something?”

“You weren’t personally behind that, were you?”

“Eh, not one for terrifying children. Kids create enough demonic chaos on their own without my involvement. Anyway, the point is, in the past I had to keep up appearances this time of year. Constantly had to keep this…” He gestures to his sickly self. “...healthy looking. Hard to tempt people if you look like you’re on Death’s door. Doesn’t mean I didn’t feel like crap though.”

“And now that you’re no longer taking commands from Below, you can just relax.”

“See, now you get it.” Crowley took another sip of tea, and once again, it soothed his throat. “Angel, you didn’t spike my drink, did you?”

Aziraphale’s eyes darted around. He drank from his own cup. “Now, where would you get a strange idea like that.”

“No cup of tea has ever helped with demonic allergies. Except for this one. That _you_ gave me.”

“Well, it’s not like Heaven can tell me what I can and can not do with my miracles anymore. It’s helpful in nature. I’m helping you.”

That got Crowley to open his eyes back up. His sunglasses were off, and an enormous grin filled his face. He turned to better face the angel. “You really are a bit of a bastard, aren’t you? You’re basically counteracting people’s good faith to do this, y’know?”

“Hardly. I’m just helping you be less bothered by it.”

Crowley finished the cup and lied back down. “‘Preciate it. Really. You didn’t have to do that. I’d be better come January.”

“Well, I didn’t cure you. That would actually involve tampering with people performing acts of kindness which I won’t do. I just knew I could help you so I did.”

“Once again proving why you’re Heaven’s best angel.” Crowley yawned. The sofa was proving itself to be much too comfortable.

“Funny you say that considering that I was only doing what you’ve done for me in the past.”

“Don’t recall you ever falling under the weather.”

“I mean helping me because you knew you could. You’ve saved me from getting discorporated a number of times.”

“We’ll call it even then.”

“I wasn’t keeping count. We just help one another. As cliche as it sounds, friends help one another.”

“You’re right, angel,” Crowley said, flipping over on the couch. “That did sound pretty cliche.”

“Sometimes cliches are so frequently used because of the truth behind them. You’re a good friend, Crowley. I want to help you in the best way I can.”

The demon muttered something in response. What he said exactly was impossible to decipher, but Aziraphale’s ears would swear they caught, “‘S why I love you.” But that couldn’t possibly be the case.

There was no asking Crowley as he was now in a deep sleep, and when he would wake up a month later in late January, he’d claim to have no recollection of the end of that particular conversation. Whether or not that claim was truthful was also left up to the unknown.

But in this moment with Crowley asleep on the sofa and Aziraphale sat on the chair across from him, the angel found himself smiling. He draped a blanket over the sleeping demon and collected both of their cups before leaving the room. He took one last glance at his good friend before flipping the light switch and closing the door.

Days stretched into weeks, and Christmas came into full swing. Crowley didn’t wake up for it, but Aziraphale didn’t mind. This was probably the best the demon could do for spending the holiday season together without them shipping off into outer space. Aziraphale was just glad that they were technically spending the time together.


	6. Yesterday and Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a writing request, maybe something about when Aziraphale+Crowley first met on the wall in eden? Like their first impressions of each other

Aziraphale and Crowley once again found themselves feeding the ducks from a bench in St. James’s Park. One particular mallard was being extremely greedy for breadcrumbs and would scare every other duck away when they got close. A vicious little creature. Crowley was loving it.

_Temptation at its finest_, he thought. _Stupid thing wants to hog all the food. It’s going to find itself in cardiac arrest with that behavior._

“Crowley.” The angel retook his attention. “Do you remember when we first met?”

“Course I do. Eden some 6000 years ago. Why you ask?”

“I’ve been reminiscing quite a bit about our time on Earth, and through that, I’ve found myself working back to that moment.”

“Would make sense. It being the beginning and all.”

“Yes. Well, I’ve been thinking about how things have changed since then.”

“Oh, yeah. Whole lot has happened. Civilization, government, cars. Could write an endless list.”

“What were your first impressions of me, Crowley?”

The demon ran his tongue over his teeth, thinking. He pelted the mallard with another balled up piece of bread. “I thought: _Well there’s an angel that looks like a lot of fun to mess with_.”

It was a half-truth answer. Crowley very much had approached Aziraphale with the intent to tease, but there was also a sense of curiosity or perhaps awe. The demon hadn’t seen an angel since he himself was one. And this one seemed… friendly enough. At the very least, he looked as though smiting wouldn’t be his first reaction. Crowley really wasn’t interested in a fight. Had been enough of that lately.

Of course, his second impression of Aziraphale—after the angel had told him that he had given away his flaming sword—was a lot more meaningful. But Aziraphale hadn’t asked about that, and Crowley wasn’t going to say anything about it without being provoked.

“I wish I could say that I had the same relaxed impression of you.” The angel attempted to toss some crumbs to the other bullied ducks, but the same aggressive mallard ferociously waddled to them first. “I was wary. At that point, I hadn’t encountered a demon before. There had been stories Upstairs, and I do remember thinking that I wished I had my sword back.”

“Lucky it was me then. Plenty of other demons that a wary impression would be more than fitting for.”

“Yes, lucky indeed.”

They were silent for a few moments, taking in the environment. A jogger ran past them, and all of the ducks, minus the mallard, quickly cleared the path and jumped into the lake in front of them. It really was a gorgeous day. The weather was warm enough and cotton ball clouds lazily drifted in the sky.

“Did the fact that we were hereditary enemies ever make you wary of me, Crowley?”

“Maybe in those brief moments before I approached you. But otherwise, nah, can’t say I ever felt that way.”

“I guess that makes sense. My status as an angel would’ve caused you to forgo the fear of a potential backstabbing.”

Crowley rolled his eyes, dramatically rolling his neck as well just so Aziraphale would know what he was doing. “I didn’t say that. I’d say it’s your _less_ angelic qualities that made you seem less threatening.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I _mean_ that one of the first things you told me was that you willy nilly gave away the Almighty’s gift to you.”

“You told me that was the right thing to do!”

“Yeah. I mean it was. Still wasn’t angelic. Angelic angels have their trousers hiked up too high to do something like that. More of a my way not the right way type.”

“I did feel a bit guilty about it. Like it was something I wasn’t supposed to do.” Aziraphale tossed his last piece of bread and swept his clothes of crumbs.

“Probably the best thing you could’ve done given the scenario.”

“Yes, they most definitely needed the sword. They might not have survived without it.”

“Oh yeah, was definitely good for Adam and Eve too.”

Aziraphale looked to him. “I thought that’s what you were referring to. What did you mean?”

“Nothing, angel. Exactly that.” Crowley pulled himself into a more upright position on the bench.

“Really now?”

“Just meant that I might not have felt as inclined to hang about you if you hadn’t done that.”

Aziraphale smiled rather slyly. “So what you’re saying is that you’ve had a soft spot for niceties since the very beginning.”

“Don’t make me strangle this duck right now to prove otherwise. I will do it.” Crowley shooed the mallard away as if that somehow strengthened his remark. The beast snapped at him before joining his victims in the lake. “My exception for things like that stretches to you and you alone.”

That last remark was more damning than him just agreeing to Aziraphale’s comment ever would have been. It’s not that the angel didn’t know. It was just that the words had never been said. Such a blunt response that Crowley valued Aziraphale so highly. Sure, actions speak louder than words and all that, and Crowley had shown him that he cared many a times, but when the words had never been spoken, they mean an awful lot as well.

“That’s... quite a sincere thing to say. I wasn’t expecting you to just blurt that out. That you make a special case for me. I really appreciate hearing that from you.”

With Aziraphale’s reply, Crowley seemed to just now realize what he had said. “Yeah, well don’t read into it that much. I mean, of course I, uh, do things for you. We are friends after all, but it’s not like I’m planning my life around it or anything like that. Just let things happen naturally. Nothing all that special.”

Really, all Crowley accomplished with this was him digging the hole he found himself in quite a bit deeper. Crowley very much wanted that mallard to come back to offer a distraction. Maybe he would actually strangle it if it got Aziraphale to forget everything he had said in the past minute. He refused to meet Aziraphale’s eyes when he smiled at him.

“Well, I’m very glad to have met you, Crowley. I can’t imagine having gone through the centuries without knowing you. Strangely, I can’t say I’d be at all the same as I am now if I hadn’t met you. I can’t help but think this was how it was all meant to occur.”

“Ineffable, is it?” Crowley asked, regaining some of his composure as a smile formed on his face as well.

“Indeed. This day and all the others we have and will have spent together until the end of time. Completely ineffable.”

The mallard returned from the lake and began pecking at the stray remaining flakes of bread. Another duck from a different flock sprinted out from beneath the bench and snagged one of the mallard’s snacks before it could consume it. The mallard chased after the duck down the pathway, crying and quacking the whole way.

“Heh,” Crowley replied. “Until the end of time. That doesn’t sound that bad.”


	7. Whispering Fruits Coffee Bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weekly #1: Heaven and Hell hold a board meeting at a coffee shop very much ran by normal humans on Earth.

Bureaucracy was most certainly not born on Earth, but whether it came into existence in Heaven or Hell first was a hot topic for debate. Heaven had existed longer but there was little need to organize when they had no opponents, so it was only after the Fall that they began to systematically structure. By the time Hell abandoned their radio silence, they had structured very similarly as well. So whether the demons or angels thought up bureaucracy first was a part of history left unknown.

Honestly, whichever group originally started the chain of command system hardly mattered. What did was the fact that they both used it, and as such communication between Heaven and Hell became mandatory. They were enemies, but negotiations were still a must have, even if the purpose was only to find out what the other side was doing.

Thus, once per century, Heaven and Hell would meet to discuss the upcoming events for the next hundred years, and form the boundaries as to who was able to interfere in what. These centennial meetings would flip from one’s home side to the other. The fourteenth century’s took place in Hell, and as such, they gained the advantage with the bubonic plague. The following century was in Heaven, and the Renaissance reached its height.

But as the twenty-first century began and Armgeddon was mere years away, neither Heaven or Hell wanted to enter the other’s home turf. Tensions were high, and the War to End All Wars might have just kick started early if one side found themselves with such an advantage. So a compromise was formed and instead of holding their meeting in either Heaven or Hell, they would hold it on Earth. It was quite fitting considering it was the last meeting to ever occur and the last century the planet would exist. The End Times would ensure that much.

Perhaps if either Heaven’s or Hell’s figureheads would of had a briefing call with their only Earth operatives, they would have been aware that there were many better places to hold a board meeting than a coffee shop. The two of them had been on the retching planet since the beginning and had the experience to back up the time. But no, all Aziraphale and Crowley had received was the standard company emails from their individual offices listing the date and location of the upcoming meeting.

The location was one Whispering Fruits Coffee Bar which sat at the corner of two busy streets and as such had an entrance for both. At precisely noon on the dot, both doors swung open and two very different crowds walked in from each one. Two crowds that looked much like the antonyms of one another.

From the right door, Archangel Gabriel with Micheal, Uriel, and Sandalphon followed by quite a few more angels that, in the others’ minds, didn’t deserve the same level of recognition. One of them being a particular Principality.

From the left, Lord Beezlebub with Dagon, Hastur, and Ligur as well as many clones of a certain demon that wasn’t important enough to have a name. Unlike Heaven, their Earth operative was not amongst them.

Both groups stood rather awkwardly in the entrance, looking at the register, seating, and human employees as if they were twelve-headed dog/lion hybrids (which, in actuality, both sides would be more familiar with that this earthly setting).

“Ah, yes. A shop selling wares for monetary value. We humans do love money,” Gabriel called out to the employees that already looked rather done with all this. “Aziraphale, you’re the Earth expert. What’s the point of this place?”

“Oh, um, people buy drinks as well as pastries and tarts—”

“Ah, of course,” Gabriel replied, leaving Aziraphale behind as he walked to the counter. “I would like to purchase some of your ingestibles.”

Beezlebub, as the figurehead for Hell, joined Gabriel at the counter. Gabriel was an idiot and incapable of keeping up a disguise. Deception was always a trait better left to those down Below, and they were going to show him why. Making a fool of an Archangel was just too much fun.

Aziraphale turned to the others still gathered in the entrance. “We could, well, arrange the tables while they’re preoccupied. Such a large gathering of people isn’t usually expected for an establishment like this.”

“You,” Hastur growled so suddenly that it made Aziraphale jump, although he wasn’t talking to him but rather the group of cloned demons. “Fix the tables.”

The demons scurried to move furniture as the shop’s employees watched on with the thoughts regarding their minimum wage paychecks keeping them from lending a hand. Heaven and Hell spread into the cafe in their individual cliques.

Beezlebub mentally facepalmed as Gabriel attempted to buy anything on the menu. If his incompetency kept up, it would turn into a physical facepalm as well, and it would not be the Lord of Flies’s forehead that they would be hitting.

“Yes,” Gabriel replied as the cashier explained that they were a coffee shop that sold coffee for the hundredth time. “And we consume this for what reason? To gain energy? Fascinating.”

To the cashier’s credit, he was holding himself together better than Beezlebub, but perhaps retail makes one used to such interactions. He even held it together as they moved onto the payment process and Gabriel brought out a sack of coins.

“And what are you folks using for currency these days? Last I checked, it was angels and half-angels. Very cute if you ask me. Micheal loved them.”

It was as the tables were pushed together and everyone not caught up at the register sat down that Hell’s own Earth operative walked in, fashionably late just as he liked to be.

“Hey! Looks like the party’s all here. Didn’t miss anything too exciting I hope.” Crowley swung himself into a chair on Hell’s side of the table. It was no accident that it happened to be the one across from Aziraphale’s. “Eh, who am I kidding? Nothing fun ever happens at these things.”

Under different circumstances, Aziraphale would be quick to respond to him, but considering their friendly relations were less than known to either of their bosses, they had a ruse to keep up. A ruse Crowley liked to push to the limits as his smirk-filled look he had locked on to Aziraphale more than proved. The angel didn’t return the look. One of them had to play it safe although, considering the repercussions Crowley would face if found out, both of them probably should have been.

Gabriel returned to the table, looking rather confused by the paper money he had been handed. A very stoic Beezlebub followed him and took a seat at one end of the table. Gabriel didn’t sit. Instead, he now looked at the receipt for his order.

“£5.73 for a coffee. What a rip-off.”

Aziraphale became rather slack-jawed at that comment. Not only because the Archangel had no understanding of currency and therefore shouldn’t have known what was and wasn’t overpriced, but also because almost £6 was indeed a rip-off!

“Anyways,” Gabriel continued, finally taking a seat. “Let’s get on with it.”

If a person was to listen to another read the iTunes terms and conditions in a voice fitting for NPR, whilst in the cafeteria of a nursing home, they would find themselves more entertained than they would at one of Heaven and Hell’s meetings. By all means, one of these meetings should be very entertaining. Seeing two groups with so much history and despisement for one another have to interact should be quite the drama. But unfortunately, both sides have far too much paperwork for any of this to be any fun at all.

So as both groups talked about what was to come in the next century, Crowley found himself rather exhausted by it all. Something about a market crash and a horrible American presidential candidate and something with a rather stupid name called Brexit. All things he really couldn’t care less about.

It was a miracle, not a literal one but a metaphoric one, when the server came by with the coffees ordered. As the server left the table and the aroma of Archangel Gabriel’s and Lord Beezlebub’s cups of joe took over the table, Crowley stood up.

“Hate to miss anything important, but I think I’ll get myself a drink too. Really, don’t feel the need to pause the meeting for me.”

Aziraphale watched him walk away from the corner of his eye. Crowley never liked to be bored. Absolutely hated it. And board meetings were the most boring of all (there was a pun somewhere in there, but now wasn’t the time for one of those). Aziraphale didn’t care much for them either.

Nothing planned at these meetings ever really mattered anyway. He and Crowley knew that. The humans controlled their own fate as much as Heaven and Hell did. They could hardly plan a whole century in advance. There would always be too many variables that showed up and threw everything off course. Crowley had the right idea finding an excuse to get away from the dreary jargon.

“Ah, you know, I think I’ll purchase something as well,” Aziraphale said to no one in particular. “Those muffins they have on display look absolutely scrumptious.”

And so both Crowley and Aziraphale had left the table just as the conversation turned towards Armageddon and the Antichrist, leaving both of them out of this critical conversation and completely in the dark.

“Making it a bit obvious, aren’t you?” Crowley asked as Aziraphale caught up to him. “Trailing me right after I left. They’re just across the room. Even as dumb as they are, I think their eyes still work.”

“I wanted to order something. Has nothing to do with you.”

“Has everything to do with me,” Crowley replied with a smile.

“Yes, but they don’t know that. I wanted a muffin.”

The employee returned from the back and took his place at the register and forced a too cheerful grin on his face. “Welcome to Whispering Fruits Coffee Bar. What can I get you?”

“Torture, isn’t it?” Crowley nodded to Aziraphale before turning to the cashier. “Yeah, one of those muffins whatever they are and a coffee. Black.”

“Now, isn’t _that_ a bit obvious?” Aziraphale asked. “You ordering for me?”

“Please. Like they understand the nuances of ordering food. It’s going to the same table anyway.”

“Alrighty,” the cashier replied with his unwavering grin. “That’ll be £8.18. Will you be paying in gold coins too?”

“Ha, no. I got a card.” Crowley handed the worker his credit card. “Look, sorry for our coworkers. They don’t get out much. Really, they’re worse than a grandmother on her deathbed at keeping up with the times.”

“Why that’s a rather bleak comparison,” Aziraphale replied.

“True though, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so although I wish you would use brighter analogies.”

“You know that’s not going to happen, angel.”

“No harm in putting it out there.”

The cashier finished finalizing the payment and handed Crowley back his card and receipt. “Oh, they’re not so bad. Would have the guy that pays in ancient gold coins over the old guy that shows up on Mondays with a tub of pennies. Here’s your muffin, sir. The coffee will be right out.”

The cashier slipped away to the back, and Aziraphale peeled the wrapper off the muffin. Both he and Crowley should probably be returning to the table now that there was no reason for them to be standing up here together, but neither of them could bring themselves to leave.

“Black coffee, really?” Aziraphale asked through a mouthful of muffin.

“What else would you think I’d get?”

“I don’t know. It just seems a bit tacky.”

“If it does your heart in any favors, I don’t plan on drinking it.”

“Then why’d you get it?”

“So I didn’t have to sit over there and listen to spiels about the greater good and the rise of evil.”

“You could’ve gotten something you liked.”

“Not a coffee person.” Crowley shifted in place. “What are you doing after this?”

“Oh, I was just going to return to the bookshop. Open it for a few hours.”

“Mind if I join you? Could help scare off a few customers.”

“Right after this, Crowley? That would be highly irresponsible.”

“Wouldn’t head there with you, and personally, I find that right after these meetings is when they check up the least. Figure they just talked to you, so they don’t need to check in.”

“If, perchance, you were to show up around four this afternoon, I wouldn’t be able to just turn you away, would I? That would be rude.”

“No, you couldn’t, could you.”

The cashier returned with a paper cup of coffee that was definitely not worth the price Crowley had paid for it. Daylight robbery was what it was, and that was just the thing the demon liked to encourage.

As he and Aziraphale returned to the table, the others began to stand and shuffle towards the door, the meeting adjourned. Shortest one there had been for a while. Usually these things went on for hours, but this one had barely lasted one. It was as if they weren’t planning for the whole century. As if they expected it to be abruptly cut off.

Of course, Aziraphale and Crowley didn’t think much of this. Likely, it was just that neither parties enjoyed spending much time on Earth and were more than eager to return Up and Downstairs. Very strange they had wanted to hold the meeting on the planet in the first place, but when things were run by a bureaucracy, things lacking sense often occurred.

As Heaven and Hell left Whispering Fruits Coffee Bar, their respective Earth operatives walked in opposite directions down the street, going their separate ways. Those ways would meet up again in a few hours under a curtain of secrecy. And then many, many more times after that working up to the End of the World.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weeklies are a community event for those in my discord server. Every week, we'll have a prompt that we can write, draw, or in any way express creatively for. If you'd like to join, here's the invite: https://discord.gg/njWbhNU


	8. Halo Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weekly #2: Aziraphale is missing his halo. Gets Crowley to help him look for it. Demon goes on a mad search but comes up empty. When he returns, Aziraphale presents him with a new ring that was once his halo.

It was inventory day at Aziraphale’s bookshop. A day which the angel very much dreaded for it was the day he had to face the list of books he had begrudgingly allowed pass out of his door. It could put him in a very sour mood if he let it, and when he was alone with his records, it was a very easy trap to slip into.

For this reason and this reason alone, he invited the demon he had teamed up with to prevent the End Times over as company. Despite the rather dreariness associated with the task, Crowley was quick to agree to join him. Although maybe that shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise. Crowley wasn’t one to put up much of a fight when it came to spending time with Aziraphale.

As such, he strode into the shop just as the sun began to breach the horizon on one lazy Sunday morn. Not many people were out. Those unfortunate enough to work on the weekends that were headed out for the day. Drunks on their way home after a long night of partying. It was the hours of scaddatling. Hurrying somewhere as to not be caught out at _this_ time. Appropriately, Crowley took leisure with his step. He liked to swim against the current.

“Morning, angel. Another glorious day where the world wasn’t reduced to rubble overnight,” he said as he met Aziraphale inside.

“I just might wish it was by the end of all this,” Aziraphale replied with a rather sour look on his face.

“Should leave the gloom and doom to me. Doesn’t really suit you.”

“It’s these days that really make me wonder why I run a bookshop.”

“Beats me. Probably should run a museum. Monkeys see but can’t touch.”

“Oh but books are meant to be read.”

“You say that and then use every tool at your disposal to scare away sales.”

“No one has any care for things nowadays,” Aziraphale began as he straightened up a pile of books. “Just toss around priceless collections of information like they’re playthings.”

As the stack became slightly more tidy, the angel swept his hands clean, and led Crowley to the room in which he kept all his records. Paper was a common sight in a bookstore, but this room seemed to have more pages than all of the books out in the store front combined. Generations of running a shop resulted in quite a bit of paperwork. An amount which rivaled that of Heaven’s and Hell’s combined.

“Are there even book museums?” Crowley wondered more to himself than anything as Aziraphale searched for his ledger. “There must be, right? But I haven’t seen one. Not the type of thing you just pass by while walking down the street.”

Aziraphale let out an exasperated breath as he pulled the ledger from a shelf. Despite his numerous miracles to keep the shop dust free, a significant amount of the stuff poofed out as he set the book of records down. He ran his hand down his face. The angel suddenly looked a lot more tired as if, perhaps, he was exaggerating for dramatic effect.

“This might just be the longest day there ever was, and it’s only just begun,” he said, collapsing into a seat.

To see Aziraphale in such a funk was quite irregular even for a day such as this. The angel never liked to see how many books he had sold, but he typically was more sad about the sales than horribly irritated. Irritation wasn’t a thing Aziraphale often showed. He wasn’t one to have a short fuse.

“You feeling all there today?” Crowley asked, having picked up on those details. “You just don’t seem as bright as normal. Er, not bright as in smarts. As in your natural glow is a bit on the dim side.”

Aziraphale brushed off the cover of the ledger, and the dust from it disappeared out of existence. He took a short breath, closed his eyes, and turned to Crowley.

“Ah, I was hoping you wouldn’t notice that, dear. Really foolish of me considering that you’ve got quite the eye for details. You see, I’ve seemed to have misplaced my halo. It’s not the best way to start the day off I must admit.”

“Not like those Frisbee disks hold much purpose other than working as team jerseys. And even with that, wing color’s got them beat. Easier to tell an angel from a demon by looking at the color of their feathers rather than trying to spot a halo.” Crowley shrugged, and then, noticing Aziraphale’s still stoic demeanor, continued on a bit more seriously. “It’s got to be around here somewhere. Plenty of nooks and crannies for it have gotten into. With all your clutter, this place is a lost and found paradise. Might take half a decade, but we’ll find it.”

Aziraphale’s eyes brightened and a smile grew on his face. His little pouty fit had swayed Crowley once again to lend him a hand. “Oh, so you will help me look for it?”

“Sure. Better than watching you manage finances all day. Er. Where’d you see it last?”

“On top my head.”

“Well, that doesn’t really help, does it?”

“I’m certain it is somewhere within these walls. I only ever physically manifest my halo as an, um, improvised reading light.”

“Course you do. A reading light. Yep.”

“It’s much more convenient than using a miracle. Specifically because, until recently, to use one for reading purposes would have been far too frivolous of behavior. Upstairs wouldn’t send me a disciplinary letter for using my halo.”

“Can’t relate. Don’t have a halo, and Downstairs was never that strict on anything like that. Selfishness is an inherently demonic quality. Encouraged frivolous behavior if anything.”

“What did happen to your halo, Crowley?”

“Shattered,” the demon replied rather emotionless. “Now, where do you want me to start looking? Not going to find anything just talking.”

“Oh, um, yes very well. I’ve searched most of this room before you arrived. Yesterday, I was looking through some boxes I received back in 1993 from Sri Lanka. Perhaps, that would be a good place for you to start while I finish here. Towards the back of the shop.”

“Yeah. Sure. On it.”

With that, Crowley turned and left Aziraphale. He had thought _search for your halo_ had meant _search for your halo together_, but apparently that’s not what Aziraphale had intended. He, seemingly, was more set on the split-up-and-search-for-clues method. Whatever. It didn’t matter.

It mattered so little that his walk wasn’t at all the tad bit huffy as he found his way into the depths of the store. Aziraphale’s shop had a strange quality to it. Particularly, it seemed to be much larger on the inside than the outside would suggest. This, of course, wasn’t something Crowley, of all people, was that unfamiliar with. Still, the towers of books became a bit like a labyrinth this far in.

The demon, in his grumpy state of mind, didn’t focus on any of this. Rather, he made note of how Aziraphale owned far too many candles for someone with so much flammable material lying around. The bookshop’s fiery demise during the End of the World was likely long overdue. He’d have to introduce the angel to those quaint, little LED ones. No real flame. No real fire hazard. And the best part, no more worries keeping him up at night. Although he didn’t need to sleep, it was a real bother not being able to get some shut eye in when he wanted.

A stack of wooden crates beside a droopy leather couch dictated that he had arrived at his destination. Stray bits of straw packing material littered the floor. Despite it obviously being a mess, it was a mess in the most tidy way possible. Really, that description could be applied to all of Aziraphale’s shop. Crowley rolled up his sleeves and plunged his hands into the open crates.

Why was he even doing this? The answer was clear. It was for Aziraphale of course. But he was in the mood to complain. Maybe all this wood fluff wouldn’t show on Aziraphale’s clothes with them being roughly the same color, but for his more nightly palette, he’d be brushing himself off for the next century and still be finding the odd straw particle.

And what if he did find the angel’s halo? The thing would probably sear his hand clean off. Nothing more holy than a halo. Consecrated ground had nothing on one of those glowy rings.

Although, the more he thought about it, he couldn’t remember a single time he heard about a demon getting a hold of a halo. Not really something that happened. Minus him and Aziraphale, angels and demons never really were in that close of proximity to each other, so a demon taking an angel’s halo, as far as he knew, had never actually happened before. So what would happen if he found it? He actually had no idea. Aziraphale, at least, hadn’t seemed that worried about it.

He could hardly even remember how halos worked. Did they still glow when apart from their angel? If so, he was wasting his time looking through these crates. The light shining from it would’ve lit up the whole box. Then again, if they did continue to glow, he could hardly imagine how Aziraphale had lost it in the first place. A literal doughnut made of light was hard to misplace.

He moved aside one box, having inspected it for the missing halo, and moved on to the couch. There were more crates, but with how much muck had gotten on him from the first one, he wasn’t excited to get to the rest. Even a miracle likely wouldn’t remove all the fibers from his clothes. Life just had those little irritations that never really ever fully went away. He would know. He invented a lot of them.

He tore the cushions off the couch and threw them to the side. If he had done this in the typical person’s home, Crowley would likely find objects such as coins, hair clips, tele remotes, and food crumbs scattered amongst the exposed surface. However, this was not any ordinary person’s home, and all he found was a spare bookmark with a lovely golden tassel attached to one end.

He sneered as he picked the bookmark up and set it on a nearby end table. That was about the only place a halo could be hidden in a couch. He tossed the cushions back on. It looked much more disheveled than when he began, but he didn’t really care. He dropped to his knees and cranked his head to look below the aged piece of furniture.

The distinct sound of approaching footsteps became audible just as Crowley was about shoulders-deep underneath the couch. He pulled himself out and swiveled around to see Aziraphale, who was looking rather uneasy himself. The angel opened his mouth for a moment, furrowed his brow, and then shut his jaw again. His eyes glanced around as if he was plucking the correct words from the air. Crowley pulled himself up and took a few curious steps towards Aziraphale.

“Something on you mind?” he asked, throwing his weight to his back leg.

“Ah, yes quite a lot actually. Would you—that is could you—oh how do I word this?”

“You’re the one that’s read every version of the dictionary twice over for fun. You tell me.”

Aziraphale took a breath and held it for a moment, allowing time to just stagger still for the minute. He took one step closer to the demon as he released the breath.

“Let’s put it this way. I’ve just had the strangest idea for where my halo might be.”

“And where’s that?” Crowley lifted an eyebrow.

Aziraphale smiled and nervously lifted his hand. He slowly raised it to Crowley’s face and then past it to his ear. Crowley followed the angel’s movement with his eyes, but the rest of his expression remained quite frozen in place.

Neither of them moved for a second, instead looking at one another in hopes to gain something from each other’s eyes that they didn’t already know. Aziraphale pulled his hand away, and in a quick shuffle of his fingers, displayed a glowing white ring that didn’t look unlike a wedding band.

“It seems,” Aziraphale began rather flustered. “That it was behind your ear the whole time.”

“Was this whole thing a trap to practice one of your magic tricks?”

“Not—not exactly. Crowley, I’d actually quite like for you to hold onto it. Since you don’t have your own halo, you can wear mine. It would mean a lot to me.” He placed the ring-sized halo into the demon’s palm. “Not sure you could wear it over your head. I didn’t think that was much your style anyways, so I made it a bit smaller. So you can, um, wear it on a finger.”

Crowley stared at the halo in his hand. It didn’t burn like he feared it would. Rather it produced a very comfortable warmth. A warmth that reeked of Aziraphale in the best possible way. He didn’t deserve this. Something so absolutely precious to an angel. He didn’t deserve to hold onto it.

“Why?” he replied. “You’ve only got one of these things. Why would you want me holding on to it?”

“Well, they are just silly _F__risbee disks_ as you called them.” Aziraphale did a little shake of his head. “You mean an awful lot to me, dear, and I figured this was an appropriate way to tell you the lengths of that.”

“Hope you didn’t expect me to get you anything.”

“Your company is more than enough. You’ll keep it then? For me?”

“Yeah, course. I mean, yes absolutely. Wow. Wasn’t expecting this today.”

Aziraphale took the halo and slipped it onto Crowley’s finger. A finger that was appropriately named for wearing jewelry, and also a finger that typically only one type of ring is ever worn on. As he let go of the demon’s hand, the ring halo continued to glow but much more dimly. Dim enough that the odd passerby wouldn’t even notice that there was anything extraordinary about it.

“It looks wonderful on you, dear.”

“So I take it you don’t have any finances to do today then.”

“I thought that would’ve been the giveaway. I haven’t sold a book in fifty years.”

Crowley looked up from his hand to Aziraphale. His face relaxed back into a wide grin. “Of course you haven’t. Really you should go with the museum idea. Would save you a lot of trouble.”

“And forgo all of the tactics I’ve learned to keep away sales? I’d think not!”

They both laughed at that. Something important had happened, but things were not all that different because of it. Perhaps, they were now closer than ever. Specifically, physically at this time, and Aziraphale seemed to notice that as his laugh trailed off and he caught himself watching Crowley continue his.

There was nothing he could imagine rather doing in this moment. This was one of those fragments of time that would engrain itself as a long-lasting memory. As if impulsed from that, Aziraphale pulled Crowley into a hug. The demon stopped laughing and became rigid, but he soon relaxed and melted into Aziraphale’s embrace, wrapping his arms around the angel as well.

The rest of the bookshop was a still silence. Candles that really shouldn’t have been there continued to burn. Sunlight poured in a bit more from the windows. And in the center of it all: an angel and a demon whose identities had become a bit more muddled into one another's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weeklies are a community event for those in my discord server. Every week, we'll have a prompt that we can write, draw, or in any way express creatively for. If you'd like to join, here's the invite: https://discord.gg/njWbhNU


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